f that attempt on the life of Napoleon, the world is
fully informed. That, thanks to a fortunate warning, the Imperial coach
was lined with boiler-iron, is well known. That warning, by direction of
her husband, was written by Madame Althie Pontalba, and delivered by me.

That the destructive missiles were manufactured in Birmingham, England,
our Minister Plenipotentiary has good cause to remember; but that they
were smuggled into Paris in the guise of egg-plants, and deposited in
the grass-plot in rear of house No. 30 of that now memorable street, I
believe is still a mystery.

That Count Felice Orsini (the man executed) was concealed for weeks, is
on record at the Prefecture; but that he assumed the position of a
servant, and the name of Marcel, is not.

As for me, I think a great deal, and say nothing; but if the young
Pontalba, who now studies type-setting with the Prince Imperial, was not
the baby whose clothes I once saw examined at a _cafe_ there is no truth
in these "Leaves of an Idler."

MR. BUTTERBY RECORDS HIS CASE.[A]

J. Moses Butterby, aged 40 years; a licensed broker; nativity, American;
temperament, sanguine; habit, slightly obese; constitution, robust.
History of the case as related by himself.

* * * * *

I don't see how I ever came to _be_ married. It was certainly the last
thing my friends expected of me, and it was the last thing I ever
expected of myself; but that I am married, Mrs. J. Moses Butterby, and
Master Alphonso Moses Butterby, are both here to testify.

What so aristocratic a family found in me to admire is as much a secret
now as then. I don't think it was intellect; for I am afraid that when
Nature designed me the "shining" element was left out. Somehow, at
school, the composition sent to the village journal was never mine; the
declamation repeated at every fresh arrival of directors was always
another's; and if, by any chance, a visitor asked to hear a recitation,
under no circumstances was I ever invited to show off. My modest part
in society was not crowned with greater success. Ma (dear heart!)
objected to dancing, and I never learned; I didn't go to picnics, for I
don't know how to drive; I tried smoking, and it made me sick; if I
drank wine, I was sure to go to sleep: in fact, none of the amusements
of other young men ever amused me; and the result was, the money they
spent, I saved.

Envious people have hinted at this as the attract